Fresh Paint
by xana4
Summary: She's like fresh paint. He shouldn't touch her but he doesn't have the willpower necessary to stay away. M for language and themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Fresh Paint**  
Words: **1025**  
Summary: **She's like fresh paint. He shouldn't touch her but he doesn't have the willpower necessary to do so.**  
Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS:LA or any of its recognizable characters. I just use them to keep my boredom away.

**Author's note: **This is a bit different from what I'm used to write. I'm not used to write Deeks like this but I woke up in a somewhat dark mood today and this just happened to pop up. I hope you give it a shot, though.

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Do you know what they say about fresh paint? I've heard a thing or two about it.

According to someone whose name I can't remember at the moment, if someone tells you that there are billions of stars in the universe you believe it but if the same someone tells you that there's fresh paint on the wall you have to touch it to know for sure. I know, totally random quote.

But it somewhat connects with my emotions at the moment.

Kensi Marie Blye is like fresh paint. I know I shouldn't touch her, know that I should stay away from her, but I simply don't have the willpower needed for such actions.

That's why I find myself at her door, one night. It's past midnight and it's past what's considered to be an appropriate hour to knock on someone's door.

But that doesn't stop me.

It never stopped me before so why should it start now?

Kensi only takes two minutes to answer the door, a clear indication that she wasn't asleep.

I walk inside and it kind of goes downhill from there. She knows why I'm here, knows what I want at this hour. She should stop me, should tell me to leave.

But she doesn't. The part of my brain that is still capable of forming coherent thoughts makes me wonder if I would do that if she asked me to.

Would I leave if she asked, without putting up a fight? Would I be able to walk away from the best thing I have in my life?

I try not to think about it too much. We don't talk about this because there's not much to talk about.

It's kind of like routine, by now. We are already experts when it comes to this. It's quite simple, if you give it some thought.

I show up at her doorstep. She knows what I want. She leads me to the nearest flat surface and we go from there. We never go to her bed because that's an unspoken agreement between us. That would make what we have more real. Then, we would have to talk about it.

And we don't want that.

Some nights, she simply allows me to do as I please with her body, allows me to control her and our activities. Other nights she fights to stay on top (no pun intended). And I'm not sure which one I prefer because, in the end, they both lead to the same mind-blowing result.

When we're done, I put my clothes on and leave without a word. We both know it's better if we don't talk about it, if we simply try to believe that this is nothing but a quick fuck.

Yes, I'm not even going to call it sex.

Sex is not this.

Sex is intimate and this feels anything but.

Sure, I admire her body and it's not easy to ignore the way my heart flutters when she's around. But this is a release, a way to get rid of the sexual tension we spend the day surrounded by. It's not sex because sex is more than this. I can't explain it, or at least I don't think I do.

I can tell you what sex means to me and what I do to make it special. Sex is about two people connecting in a very special way. It involves foreplay, play time and maybe a bit of cuddling afterwards.

We don't do that.

We just get down to business. We don't even kiss because that would make this a lot more intimate than what it has to be. I know I seem cold but there's an invisible line I'm not ready to cross and neither is she.

I know she's ready for me when I get on top of her, on the couch, so I don't waste any time. I turn off the lights because it's easier to treat her like an object if I don't see her. She doesn't complain and spreads her legs for me. After making sure I have the condom in place, I enter her and make sure that she enjoys this.

I might seem like a jerk but I'm still a gentleman. Ladies first, that's my motto. After she comes, I allow myself to do the same.

I leave afterwards, without even looking into her eyes.

I know I should stay away from her, know that I should just forget about the way her body feels beneath me and never show up at her door again. But that's the problem. Her body feels too damn perfect beneath mine.

She doesn't moan much, tries to hold them back as much as much as possible (for my benefit or hers, perhaps). But, when she moans, I feel that moan with every fiber of my being.

I feel every sound, every movement, every flutter of her walls.

Somehow, I don't think anything will ever feel this good in my life.

As I lie on my bed, I promise myself this was the last time. I need it to be the last time because the line that separates the physical from the emotional is starting to get blurry for me and I'm afraid she will push me back if she realizes that.

My head is a mess, my thoughts are all over the place and the only thing I want right now is to fall asleep.

Tomorrow, I will think about this again. I will try to convince myself that the only reason why I don't kiss her, why I don't show her this is more than fucking to me, is because she's not ready for such a commitment.

Maybe that's true.

Maybe I need to see a green-light from her before I can even think about this.

And, while she doesn't give me that green-light, I will keep coming home and promising myself that was the last time and, in the end, I will just keep going back for more of her.

Because she's like fresh paint and I'm the idiot that has to touch it, just to make sure he's not being fooled.

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**Seeing as I'm currently on freaking bed-rest (thanks to a knee injury that lead to a knee-surgery), I have a lot of free time on my hands to write. I try to focus my attention on my television because it's easier to watch it than to write. But my computer keeps calling my name so I call someone to just hand it over to me. I'm working on a few things at the moment and I will post them all as soon as I'm satisfied with them.**

**Do I deserve a review?  
Love,  
Sarah**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **If they were mine, I wouldn't make the fans wait so long for a freaking kiss!

**Words: **Didn't count them. Just read the chapter =)

**AN: **My sister-in-law was the one who made me write this chapter and the following one. She read it on fanfiction last night and come over this morning to knock some sense into me and make me keep going with this plot. I wanted it to be a one-shot but I'm on bed-rest and there was a 7 months pregnant woman yelling at me. I sold my soul to the devil and I'm officially going to continue this story. Enjoy =)  
P.s. – Dear Daniela, if you think about coming over tomorrow morning to see if the final chapter is already written, DON'T! It's written but you will read it when my readers read it!

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**Kensi's POV**

I'm using him.

Or he's using me.

At this point, I'm not sure which one of those is true.

All I know is that we should stop doing this. But I'm not strong enough to tell him that. If this is the only way I can have him, then I'm going to enjoy it. That's why I let him in when he shows up at my door, a bit over midnight. I open my mouth to say something, wanting him to know how I feel about this 'arrangement'.

But one look into his eyes is more than enough to make me change my mind.

It's not like we're hurting anyone by doing this.

We're both young, single and healthy. We spent way too long trying to ignore the sexual attraction between us, the sexual tension. So this might be healthy to us, a way to get rid of said tension and stress.

He leads me to the couch and turns off the light. We don't kiss and sometimes I wonder what would be like if I just reached for his lips.

Would he back away from me?

Would he kiss me back?

Would he leave and never come back?

It's the third question that makes me more afraid of acting upon how I feel. I don't think I would be able to see him leave. Sure, this arrangement is probably the farthest thing from okay but at least I get to have him all to myself for a while. I get to know what it feels like to have him on top of me, his body warming mine, his hands traveling through my curves as he moves inside of me.

We don't do foreplay because that would make this, whatever this is, too intimate. There's a thin line between what we're doing and intimacy and I'm well aware that the slightest movement can throw me over that line. The thing is, I'm not sure if I would be able to draw it back after I crossed it.

That's why we don't use my bed either. We've done this in my bedroom but never on the bed. He took me against the wall a while ago and even on the floor. But the bed is forbidden territory.

Sometimes, after he leaves, I lay in my bed and wonder what would be like to have him there by my side.

Would he cuddle me or just roll over and fall asleep? I can tell you the answer to that question. He would cuddle me.

I know Marty Deeks well enough to know he's nothing but a gentleman. Even during our activities, he's never rough with me. He always uses slow movements at first, to make sure that I have a somewhat proper warm-up and that he won't hurt me.

And he always allows me to tumble over the edge first.

There are nights in which I fight to stay on top, to stay in control of whatever this is. He never puts up much of a fight and lets me do as I please. What I'm sure he doesn't know is that I never do as I please.

Every single time that happens, I want to kiss him. I want to run my hands all over his body and take my sweet time exploring him. I want to turn on the lights to see the brilliant blue of his eyes staring at me. I want him to hold me as I come down from my high. God, I want to be able to moan without being scared.

Yes, I'm scared to moan. Don't get me wrong on this one. We might not have foreplay or kisses or a bed but being with him is a mind-blowing experience. But I don't moan because I'm afraid that those sounds will scare him off. I know how ridiculous it sounds but that thought is in my head and there's nothing I can do to get rid of it now.

Whenever we're together, I feel like if I moan too loudly it will break him and make him realize what he's been doing. I'm afraid that will be enough to make him leave and never come back.

Tonight is not different.

He takes me to the couch, takes off my jeans and underwear and gets on top of me.

My shirt remains on and that's a constant reminder that he's never even seen my breasts. That, right there, should set off alarm bells in my mind.

But all I can think about is how right it feels when he enters me. I'm not prepared, though, and wince slightly at the feeling. He freezes and I feel him pull out of me.

In my mind, I keep hitting myself for making a sound. This is what I've been scared of all along.

But he doesn't leave. I feel his finger on my clit and everything else seems to fade. He enters me again and it doesn't hurt this time. Still, he freezes inside of me for a few seconds. I want to think he's doing it to make me feel comfortable but I know he's just getting comfortable.

After we're done, he gets up and leaves.

We never talk about it and I keep telling myself it's better like this.

However, tonight, my brain just isn't buying what I'm trying to sell. That's why I put my underwear on and curl on the couch, not even trusting my legs to carry me to the bed right now. I stay on the couch, allowing a few tears to run down my cheeks.

This isn't me.

I'm not weak and I don't cry.

But I want him. I want him for more than just this and I wish I was strong enough to tell him. But I'm not.

Still, I promise myself I won't let him in the next time he knocks on my door. I promise myself this will never happen again.

But that's a promise broken right from the start because I know I won't do that. As long as he keeps coming back, I will keep opening the door for him.

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**Thank you for your reviews, alerts and favorites. It means a lot to me to know you liked to read about this side of Deeks. Fear not, dear readers, because there's one more chapter to go and I will not complete this story until I make everything alright between these two.**

**Reviews, however, make me want to give them a very happy ending (if you know what I mean).  
Love,  
Sarah**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fresh Paint – Chapter 3**

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**I have a few things to say and I think you should read them.  
1. As you'll be able to tell, Mike Renko is alive in my story. He was one of my favorite characters and I'm keeping him alive in as many stories as I can. Deal with it!  
2. I cried while writing this and I would like to know if anyone cried while reading it (yes, I'm that messed up)  
3. I was listening "Breakfast at Tiffany's" while writing this and it seems like a good song to go along with it (just saying…)  
4. My sister-in-law said I have a messed up mind so I came up with a few more stories this week (to feed the dark-side of my soul, I guess…I'll decide if I want to publish the or not later on)**

**That is all. Enjoy =)**

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He knocks on her door, a few minutes before midnight.

She opens the door for him, just like in any other night. But this is not just another night and they both know it.

She's fragile, broken.

She watched one of her best friends, Mike Renko, get shot and fight for his life right in front of her. She's not sure how he managed to survive such a thing but is relieved that he did. His death would have made her suffer a lot.

Still, Deeks knows how much he means to her and how much it hurt to see him like that.

Kensi doesn't allow him to get too close to her, not sure if she's emotionally capable of handling that tonight.

She sits on the couch and hears him close the door.

He walks in and sits next to her, on the couch, not sure of what he's doing here. He shouldn't have come, not tonight. He can't shake off the feeling that he's stepping over the line by doing this, the line that separates the physical from the emotional.

But that's the problem.

There's no line.

That's something it took him a while to understand but that he knows for sure now.

There was never a line.

They tried to draw it. They didn't kiss, he didn't even take her shirt off, and there was never foreplay.

But she's still Kensi and he's still Deeks. They have a thing. And, as hard as it is for him to admit it, he didn't come here tonight for a quick fuck.

He came to make sure his partner was holding up okay.

For ten minutes, she doesn't move and he doesn't make a sound. But, after that, Kensi realizes how ridiculous this is. He's here for the usual release of sexual tension and the faster they get started, the faster she will have the house to herself. That's why she turns the lights off and takes a hold of his pants, maneuvering them so she's on top of him as he lays on the couch.

She takes her own pants off and starts working on his. But, as soon as her hands connect with his fly, he breaks one of their unspoken rules and talks.

"Kensi…"

It's not much. It's just a weak whisper of her name but it means so much more to her. It's like he's acknowledging, for the first time, who he's doing this with.

But she doesn't allow herself to duel much on that and takes his pants off. However, as soon as she grabs the waistband of his boxers to give them the same path, his hand lands on top of hers and stops her movements. In one swift movement, he flips them over as carefully as he can, so he gets on top of her.

And, before she has time to register what's happening, he's turning the light on and looking into her eyes.

Kensi doesn't know what to do, what to say or what to think. This is new. What she sees in his eyes is something she never allowed herself to hope for.

A single tear makes its way down her cheek and it's enough to break his heart.

This is what he's doing.

This is what he's been doing to her.

He's been breaking her, hurting her. And that tear is enough to make him want to cry along with her. But, instead, he kisses her forehead in the sweetest gesture she's ever seen from him, and whispers against her skin.

"I'm so sorry, Kensi."

Then, he gets up and puts his pants on, without looking at her. And, less than a minute later, he's out of the door without saying another word, without even looking at the woman he loves more than anything else in the whole world.

Kensi just lays there, not sure of what she's supposed to do or say in this situation. She saw the regret, the hurt and the sadness in his eyes.

She saw love there, something she never thought she would see in anyone's eyes ever again ever since Jack left. But her partner's eyes always gave away his emotions. She's not sure how long it takes her to actually get up and start moving but, as soon as she does, it takes her less than a minute to put her pants on and walk out of the door.

He's sitting inside his car, his head on the steering wheel and his hands on either side of it.

Should it feel this good to see him there?

Almost as if sensing her there, Deeks lifts his head and looks at her. She stands frozen, between her house and his car, not knowing what to do now. She's never been very good with this kind of things.

But he must see something in her eyes, even from afar, because relief washes over him and he's out of the car and moving towards her.

He stops as soon as he's less than a foot away from her and stares into her eyes.

Kensi breaks the silence, her voice shaky and unsure. "I…You…We…"

She shakes her head, almost as if stunned by her own lack of words, and tries again but the only thing that comes out of her mouth is almost like a whine, a cry for help because she doesn't know what to say. "Deeks!"

He nods and steps forward, not breaking eye-contact. His hand rests on her cheek and she leans into his touch. "I know, Kensi."

Then, he closes the space between them and kisses her for the very first time.

It's everything he always knew it would be and more. It's passion, love and want all wrapped into one delicious package that makes air become his second priority at the moment. He's not sure what makes his knees shake.

Maybe it's the way she holds onto him.

Maybe it's the way her curves mold onto his body.

Maybe it's the way she pulls him with her, back inside the house.

Kensi tries to lead him to the couch but he refuses to do this on the couch. This will be, for all intents and purposes, their first time together, and he's not going to take her hard and fast on her living room couch. He's going to use this to apologize for all those times in which he didn't kiss her, didn't take her clothes off, and didn't love her as he should have.

That's why he lifts her up until she wraps her legs around his waist and carries her to her bedroom, to her bed.

She laughs against his mouth when she notices he's turning on every single light in the house he can find in his path and he can't help but laugh along with her, even if their lips are glued together.

This time, he doesn't stop until she's completely naked in front of him, all the lights turned on and their eyes locked.

He breathes in deeply, looking at her as if she's the most gorgeous sight he's ever laid his eyes on. And she is, in all honesty.

They're both naked by the time he sits on the bed and helps her straddle his lap. He kisses her again, slowly and passionately, as her hands start to move towards his very hard member. But he stops her before she can reach her destination and shakes his head.

Instead, he lays her on the bed and gets on top of her, her legs accommodating him. He kisses every inch of her skin he can reach, touches every curve, every scar, every span of the softest skin he's ever touched. And, by the time he's done with his exploration, she's begging for him to take her.

Deeks looks into her eyes and whispers against her lips. "If I take you now, it's forever. There will be no going back, Kensi. I will never let you go. So make sure this is what you want."

Kensi wraps her arms around his neck and uses the leverage to pull him closer so she can kiss him. And, when air becomes scarce, she pulls back and looks into his ocean blue eyes, filled with love and care, and utters the words he so desperately wants to hear.

"I'm yours, Marty. I'm yours forever."

He enters her, then, and it feels like the first time.

Everything's different, this time.

She's not afraid to moan and he's not afraid to hurt her because he knows she's more than ready for him.

He moves slowly inside of her, lovingly, and she encourages him with soft moans that she can't keep in. When he finally pushes her over the edge, she holds onto him as hard as she can, his name a scream in her lips, and it's the hottest thing he ever witnessed.

He's not sure if it's the way she holds onto him or the way she says his name, but that's more than enough to throw him over the edge along with her.

Deeks rolls off of her and wastes no time in pulling her into his arms, holding her as if afraid of letting go. They're covered in sweat but she still cuddles as close to him as she can, showing him that she's not going anywhere.

Because, from this day on, they're not going anywhere.

They're together and they're not letting go of each other.

**The End**

**Reviews if you have some time to kill and want to use it to make me smile like a crazy person!  
Love,  
Sarah**


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